Sonnet to Toronto in the Rain

Standing under the confused solution of this sky
I take in the rain. A woman whirls on a hoop.
The smokers under a canopy, coughing. Umbrellas
are useless, in this wind. Everyone is wet, faces
shining, rueful. Graffiti dissolves a question.
All the places we dreamed of living, and here
we are. This wide summary of cities,
itself and everywhere. I accept its rain.

Published in TOK: Writing the New Toronto, Book 7. Purchase the book to read the full piece.

An excerpt

An excerpt

My friend, my friend, I cannot stop the rain. I cannot catch your grey clouds in the cup of my palm and prevent the murky drops from seeping through the ridges of my hand. I cannot turn back time to foreshadow what has happened . . .